


Vikings: Despair

by xenowriter



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenowriter/pseuds/xenowriter
Summary: Ragnar says his farewell to Lagertha before heading to Wessex.
Relationships: Lagertha/Ragnar Lothbrok
Kudos: 25





	Vikings: Despair

VIKINGS  
DESPAIR

The sun’s light over the horizon was slowly coming through the window as Lagertha stirred in the bed. She smiled to herself as she felt Astrid’s arm still draped around her waist behind her. Feeling the warmth of her lover made Lagertha want to remain in the bed. Gingerly removing Astrid’s arm, Lagertha sat up and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. A cold air caressed her skin. “You awake?” The black-haired woman murmured sleepily to her.

“Go to back sleep, Astrid. I’m going to get a bath.” Lagertha hushed her gently as she leaned down to place a soft kiss on the woman’s lips, tasting her. Astrid moaned gently as she rolled onto her other side exposing the dominant tattoos that covered her back side. A beautiful sight of her heritage’s insignia displayed. Rising up from the bed, Lagertha walked across the cold wood floors of their small cottage to retrieve her tunic and pants. 

Slipping quietly out of the cottage, Lagertha kept her shield and sword inside, but carefully chose a small knife should the need call for it. Walking around unarmed as a shield maiden was careless and reckless. Daylight covered her as the sun continued its designated path into the sky, creating a pink hue across all that she could see with a small mixture of red. The red was pigmented dark as blood and this made Lagertha freeze in midstep. “A sign of the gods….” She gasped under her breath. The message was unclear and could have meant a number of things. Death to come? Hers? Astrid’s? Bjorn’s? Ragnar’s? Her former lover’s name remained poised in her mind as she recalled his unexpected arrival to her settlement the day before. This event made Lagertha smile widely to herself as she continued down the dirt path that would lead her to her private sanctuary. Ragnar’s appearance was worse than she pictured him to be. He had grown out his beard and his eyes were sunken in by layers of skin. It seemed he had not slept in the years he vanished after their failed raid on Paris. Glancing around, she began to wonder if he was still present on her camp. Her guards stated that he left on foot just minutes after he left her audience. It wasn’t like him to take no for an answer. Years ago, when he was just a farmer, he had a fire about him that burned so brightly as if it embodied the forge that Thor’s hammer was created in. This desire was one of the main things that drew her to him when he courted her. Despite being a very strong independent woman, when he offered her his arm bracelet in return for her hand in marriage, she felt so honored and privilege. It was one of the happiest moments of her life, followed by the births of her son and daughter. Gyda…the name of her daughter still pained her. It still felt like yesterday when she fell ill along with many of Kattegat. Another sign of the gods. One that even the Seer did not foretell to her. 

Walking along the dirt path, the grass damp with dew gently caressed her feet. She could hear the water up ahead and it beckoned to her. Lagertha thought back to the purpose of Ragnar’s journey. He was up front with her. She expected no less. He was going back to Wessex and wanted her to accompany him. She could see the look of mistrust plastered on Astrid’s face as her former lover spoke. The woman did not trust Ragnar. She heard the tales of what happened at Paris and how Ragnar befriended and trusted a Christian monk named Athelstan. Some whispered that the Christian was Ragnar’s downfall and his failure was way before the raid at Paris. Lagertha never said such things, but news traveled and whispers carried a lot of weight to Astrid. Though, she dared not to bring up such things.

Stopping, Lagertha took in the water’s tranquility. The stream was knee deep and off the path surrounded by shrubbery. She could bathe without prying eyes. Her guards did not like the fact that she was venturing out so without them, but they dared not to question her request. Removing her garments, she slowly dipped her right foot into the beckoning waters allowing herself to submerge slowly. Shivering, she continued to proceed to give her body time to adjust to the temperature. The sun’s warmth did not strike where she was yet so the water was cool despite the warmer season arriving. Stretching out her arms, she drew the water closer to her chest allowing it wash over her breasts. Her body riddled with scars from all her battles past and present. She proudly stared down at them taking in stock. A sign not of ugliness, but achievement. Many trophies for the gods. Dipping her head down, she allowed the graying strands of her hair to caress the water’s surface. Her blue eyes glanced up at the sky that was still brightening. 

A twig snapped nearby to her left. Lagertha did not flinch. She would not alarm her would be attacker. She quietly cursed herself for not keeping her dagger closer to her. The small blade was with her clothing on the bank. She remained quiet and listened. There was no sound except for the birds chirping in the faint distance. A false sign of safety. After several minutes of the continued silence, Lagertha straightened her posture in the water and eyed her surroundings suspiciously. It was time to confront her intruder. “Show yourself,” She demanded fiercely. No sign of movement. Did the person’s sound make them disregard their treacherous attempt? She would not take any chances. “I know you are out there,” Lagertha remarked matter-of-factly. “Are you a coward?”

Seconds later, the shrubbery to her left wiggled and outstepped Ragnar Lothbrok. A phantom smile adorned his dirty aged face. “Is that any way to talk to your ex-husband?” His current title rolled off his tongue painfully, yet the tone seemed almost playful. Just like how their marriage used to be. A distant memory.

Seeing him, Lagertha allowed herself to relax her guard and she tilted her head slightly as she stared up at him on the bank’s shore. “Thought you were going to Wessex.” Her nakedness did not bother her despite their years apart and their past lovers in between. 

“I am,” He nonchalantly replied as he sat down. His movement slower than normal, she noted. “Are you and her…” He purposefully chose not to continue his question, allowing the unspoken to hint at his intent. Of course, he was referring to Astrid. It was his turn to ask questions.

“What if we are?” Lagertha turned it against him with a proud smirk. “Does it bother you, Ragnar Lothbrok?”

The bald man chuckled as he pulled his knees to his chest. “Of course not.”

“And you, Ragnar? How many women have you been with since Paris?” She challenged.

His tired blue eyes directly looked upon hers. “None.” 

For once in his life, she believed him. It was hard for her to find trust him after he returned with word that he had sex numerous times with Princess Aslaug and that she was carrying his child. He insisted that he could not turn away the red head woman because of her condition and that he should take her as a second wife. It was not uncommon for a man to be married to multiple women in their culture, but the idea burned her. Lagertha would not welcome the woman with open arms. She only saw her as a threat. The bewitching sorceress put a spell on her husband during his travels and had stolen him from her. She was sure of it. Weeks later, Lagertha left with Bjorn and divorced Ragnar. She was hurt. Deeply hurt. She would not trust him. Yet, their roads continued to cross and she followed him even when her wounded heart pleaded against the notion. After all, he agreed to help take back her earldom. He didn’t have to, but he did. 

Their conversation felt awkward. Once again, their roads crossed, but this time she could not be close to him. She could not go where he was going. The spark of ambition was not there when he told her about his desire to return to Wessex. His intent was not revenge against King Eckbert’s attack on their settlement and the slaughter of his people that were left to farm the new land per their agreement with the king. When he pitched the idea to her, he tried to cover his words with the feign approach. She knew that was not his true intent. Why else would he disappear like he did following their return from Francia? Francia was not his disastrous failure. In fact, some would say that their pact with Eckbert was the start of it all. He was going there to die. A journey that he must at some point go alone even when he wanted others to follow him. No one wanted to go with him. Not even his own sons. Another sign of weakness among his people. Despair consumed him for he did not have the resources to attempt the feat solo. Their lives now were two ships passing one another to find their own golden worlds. “You know that I cannot go with you, Ragnar…” Her voice softened as she slowly began to walk to the shore to where he stood allowing the water to drip off her moist body with each step. 

The man exhaled. He already expected her answer to be absolute. “I know.” His eyes followed her body as it revealed itself out of the water. Guilt made him cast his sights away. Taking his hands and hitting his upper legs, he slowly stood up from where he sat. “It is settled then. I will take no more of your time, Earl Ingstad.” 

The reminder of her new title made Lagertha laugh. “It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” Gleam from her blue eyes casted upon him with a hint of the joyous times they had together in the past, despite their divorce. She liked to toy him especially displaying the power she had obtained on her own as well. 

“No, it doesn’t,” He shot back defensively as he could not bring himself to look at her. His exhausted eyes glanced back at the path that would continue to lead him away from her settlement and back in the direction that he came.

Lagertha followed his look and gently cupped his face with her hand, pulling his attention back to her. Her wet naked form just inches from him as she stood on the bank in front. “You were never a good liar, Ragnar. You could hide things, but not lie.” 

“We all have our weaknesses. Hmm?” Ragnar grumbled. “Shall I mention yours?”

“I do not want to fight with you.” The woman kept her hand firmly on his face. “Your presence pains me at this very moment.”

“Then I shall leave.” Hurt dripped off his lips. He took his right hand and removed hers from his scruffy face.

“Wait!” The word stumbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to catch herself. Her heart raced as worry filled her like ale in a horn. Deep down, she knew this may be the last time she would see him alive. 

“I’m very busy, Lagertha.” He turned back to her. “What is it?”

Without saying a word, Lagertha pulled him towards her and kissed him passionately. Ragnar stiffened his guard feeling her caress by surprise. He wanted to pull away and continue down his dark path, but the feel of her love called to him. It almost begged him to remain alive. Closing his eyes, he indulged himself in the euphoria as he returned the kiss, allowing his hands to wrap around her naked frame, drawing her closer to him.

Lagertha wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt the scratchiness of his coarse beard hair rub her skin. Her lips never broke from his as tears poured down her face like a waterfall, dampening her skin. Finally, forcing herself to break away, she moved her mouth towards his left ear, allowing her warm breath to caress his skin. “We shall meet in Valhalla, Ragnar.” She rubbed her face against his flesh, allowing the wetness of her tears to touch his own skin. 

Without hesitation, Ragnar’s voice poured into her own ear, “No, we won’t.” He pulled himself away, placing more distance between them.

She stared at him quizzically. Pain and despair ached her. “Do not say such things!” 

“The gods turned their back on me. Valhalla’s doors locked me out years ago. I saw it.” He grimly reminded her as he turned away to continue his journey.

His farewell made Lagertha collapse to her knees as she watched his form become smaller and smaller as he moved away. “My sweet Ragnar…” Her voice quivered. “You are wrong…you are so wrong…we shall meet each other again, my love…”


End file.
